


after the wake

by Whiteorangeflower



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiteorangeflower/pseuds/Whiteorangeflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Emma Swan arrived in Storybrooke, Mr. Gold remembered who he really was.  But the curse he made to find his son may have brought him more that what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was intrigued by this plot bunny once, ages ago. And now, months later, it has come back in full force and with a few twist. It follows S01 main events, with a little, significant twist.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

His head was spinning. Too much information flowing inside his brain at the same moment. Two, no, three lives smashing together as Mr. Gold remembered who he really was. He muttered something to Granny, taking the bundle of money she handed him - not bothering to check because no one would ever try to cheat him, in this world or in the other. 

The short walk home was full of shadows, and he concentrated on putting one foot before the other, hoping not to stumble, not here on the streets where anyone could see. Climbing the steps, finding the keys and opening the door of his pink house was never so strange and so familiar.

As soon as he was inside, he began trembling violently. He looked around his home to see where he had lived for twenty-eight years, and knew immediately that he'd done the wrong thing. There was a picture framed near the phone. Two people in it, one old and one young. The older had an impeccable suit on, he looked imposing in it even though he was not very tall; and while he was not smiling, he didn’t look displeased and there was a sort of calm pride surrounding him. The younger was grinning at someone out of the picture. A diploma in one hand and a football in the other. Ready to go away and party all day with his friends. Tall and broad, with dark hair and dark eyes. _Too dark:_ _black, not chocolate brown_.

Father and son, but you can see there is something wrong. They didn’t look alike. And the eyes of the boy are all wrong. 

He wondered for an instant if it was Regina, the caster, or himself, the creator, who gave a wicked sense of humour to this curse. Wasn’t it ironic, Gold thought ruefully, that the second he came to this world to find his lost son, after centuries of struggling and plotting and twisting other people's lives, the very second he put a foot on this world without magic, the curse gave him one. 

A wave of nausea assaulted him, and Gold reached the bathroom as fast as possible, abandoning the cane on the floor, to empty his stomach in the sink. He was hungry before collecting the rent but now he just wanted to sleep, knowing all too well he would not close his eyes all night. There are too many things he needed to think about...plans he must form.

At 6:30 in the morning, Gold was waiting outside the little house where Gregory lived. And there he was, a tall man climbing out from his car, unkempt and a little bit staggering, not bothering to close the car ‘cause who the hell would steal that old piece of rust? And no one would dare to steal it, too afraid of Gold’s wrath. Disinherited as he may be, he and his father still talked to each other sometimes, and so it was better be careful around him, too.

After a few seconds, while trying to stay upright, he noticed Gold approaching. 

“Dad”, Gregory said looking at him like he was not sure if what he saw was real or he was dreaming.

“Good morning, son.”

“Are you here for the rent?”

“No”, Gold breathed slowly, taking in this fake son of his. “Your check came two days ago, like always. I just needed to talk to you and, knowing your schedule, I thought the morning was the best time to find you both home.”

“Two days ago?”, Greg furrowed his brow, puzzled. “Oh yes, the rent was due yesterday. Good thing she keeps track of all the bills”. He yawned before adding “Come inside if you wanna talk. I need my breakfast and then I have to go to bed”. Greg walked away from the car and stumbled a little reaching the door, walking over a little bush of violets bordering the path.

Gold knew everything about the man, before and after the curse. Before he had spent years enchanted in his castle, Rumpelstiltskin had never thought about him, not before or after her death. And now, now that the curse had named him Gregory Gold and tied his life to Rumpelstiltskin for 28 years of lies, in this world the man worked in a pub he also partially owned. The Pub’s books were mostly in order - Gold had his ways of knowing those kinds of things - but he doubted this Gregory brought home more than a few dollars a week. This man loved alcohol and gambling and had a few barflies he indulged in and a mistress he spent most of his time with, day and night - in fact, Gold was pretty sure the man was coming home from her house, not the pub. So Gregoy was just a bit annoyed when he asked, “Did you drink a lot?” which followed the normal path of hidden irritation Gold had always shown toward his son's many indulgences.

“A lot? It takes more than a few beers to make me drunk, dad. And owning a pub, how can I say no to my customers if they want to cheer with me?” Greg grinned.

They entered the little house, Mr. Gold looking around avidly. It had been years since he last came here, or, better, he never came but the curse thinks he did. Usually his son came to the shop if he needed something, or he dropped by the pub. It wasn't a frequent occurrence, but they needed to talk sometimes, mostly about business. The curse created an estranged relationship for them, full of shouting and with little love, and the only link for them is tmoney. 

The house was sparkling clean, and it just accentuated the emptiness of the little sitting room. It had a couch, a little coffee table and a giant TV screen that Gold would bet was the only luxury item in the house. No pictures, no books, no knick knacks around. The kitchen was slightly more comfortable, the table ready for breakfast, and Gold could smell the coffee steaming from the coffee maker on the counter. Sandwiches and scrambled eggs were ready in their plates, as well as bread and jam, a glass with orange juice next to them. You could almost think that it was enchanted the way the meals would appear, hot and ready, the moment the master came home. 

But Gold knew better.

There was a white simple vase near the sink, with little yellow daisies, the same Gold could see outside in the little garden.

Greg and Gold didn’t talk. His son didn’t offer him anything, knowing he would refuse the coffee and not bothering to make tea - Gold's drink of choice. And Gold just waited for the man to finish, looking around, searching for something other than the flowers that could give the feeling of being in a home. He found nothing. 

They heard a little noise in the corridor, like someone had just climbed down the stairs silently and tried to go to the door, hoping to get out and not disturb anyone or be heard at all. Mr. Gold suddenly felt like he was tasting something bad in his mouth. _Hoping we forget her very existence_. 

“Sarah”, his son shouted towards the corridor, “come here and fetch me the cereal. And since you're here, would you fix a cup of coffee or something for my dad?"

Gold heard steps coming toward the kitchen, and then a voice. “Of course, Gregory. Good morning, Mr. Gold, I didn’t realise you were here. If it's all right with you I’ll make a pot of Earl Grey. I', afraid it’s the only tea we have”.

Mr. Gold turned around and looked at Sarah. In his cursed memories Mr. Gold could see her as a young girl going to school with Greg and tutoring him in math, science and literature. He saw her petite frame trembling and her eyes glittering with tears that were not of joy on the steps of Town Hall, while he vented out all his rage. He remembered her walking around town, came rain or came shine, cleaning houses and shops, while he resolutely watched the other way to avoid seeing his daughter-in-law. He remembered Greg’s visit to the shop, saying he would be a granddad soon because he and Sarah were expecting a baby. 

Gold here had played these moments in his head all night and he had thought he'd be ready to face it and would not falter. 

He was wrong.

His breath left his lungs in a rush and the pain he felt in his chest was almost unbearable. Clenching his hands on his cane and gritting his teeth he tried to find composure while his Belle, looking pale and tired, walked into the little kitchen wearing a simple dress that looked too old, too worn out and already a little too tight on the belly for a woman who is only four months pregnant.


	2. Chapter 2

Everybody in Storybrooke remembered the day Gregory Gold got married. They were not invited at the ceremony and there wasn’t even a party afterwards. The son of the most powerful man in town was getting married and nobody knew. At least until that very morning.

Several years later people were still wondering who first spread the news. A mid-September morning the entire town woke up with the buzzing rumour of a secret wedding taking place in Town Hall at noon between Gregory Gold and Sarah French. 'What an odd couple,' was whispered among the tables at Granny’s. 'I thought he was dating that cheerleader, not the florist’s daughter,' well informed ladies told their friends in line at the bakery. 'Looks like the old Gold doesn’t know yet,' was said in the streets. 'She must be pregnant,' was whispered in the kitchens. 'Who would have ever thought? She looked like such a fine, sweet girl.' There would be fireworks that day.

Gold heard the whispers, too. When he went to Town Hall that morning joining the small crow gathering there. At first he went unnoticed, but then, as noon approached, more and more people nudged the others, whispering his presence or pointing toward him with silent gestures. He smirked. Fireworks indeed. They wanted a show? They would have it. In fact, for what Gold planned, it was good to have an audience.

The happy couple exited the building. Husband and wife, young and lovely. Mayor Mills followed, as one of the only two people who witnessed the ceremony. The first one to notice him was the bride, Sarah. She stilled and paled, looking at him. Gold knew for certain, in that moment, that Gregory had lied to her; maybe telling her that his father was too busy or out of town for the day. If Gold were a better person, he would have taken pity for that poor girl, obviously enough in love with his stupid son to agree to marry him. Let her believe he had just discovered it all, let her take the blame as the woman who had just stolen his only son. Gregory thought he could outsmart his own father. That he, infamous Mr. Gold, wouldn’t take revenge on in son. He had raised a coward, Gold thought that morning, looking at his son. Greg noticed him, too, and took a deep breath before climbing down the stairs and greeting his father with forced cheer. Gold remembered Sarah's expression when Gregory let go of her hand without a word. The bride who stood alone on the steps on her wedding day, while her husband walked to talk with the most feared man in town, who was obviously furious with them.

And there he was, that same man, who called her names and ruined her wedding day ten years ago. The man who hasn’t talked to her in ten years was sitting in her kitchen and she has just politely offered to make him some tea. Gold ached to know what she was thinking, how she was feeling. But he couldn’t find words, not for his questions, not for answering her. So he just nodded. Like she was a servant, his servant, and swallowing down all the things she wanted to ask and was sure she couldn’t reply to. 'Where did you go? I thought you were dead, what happened to you, Belle?'

Sarah put the kettle on and took a small ladder to reach the higher shelf where Greg’s cereals were. 

“You shouldn’t do this in your condition, dear. It could be dangerous.” Gold’s words caught her off guard, and he saw her jump a little in surprise.

“It doesn’t matter,” She shrugged after a second. “At work I have to climb ladders and kneel on floors and manage the laundry all day, so this is no problem at all". Gold frowned at those words, rising from his chair and then going near her to help her climb down. Gold saw Sarah look at his outstretched hand for a second and then turn to balance herself on the cabinets and the kitchen counter, staggering a little she climbed down.

He almost grabbed her then, but stopped with his hand just a few inches away from touching her; she had already shown him she wouldn’t like his help. He tried not to feel hurt, this woman didn’t know him. She was wary and cautious - Sarah ought to be, because all Mr. Gold has given her was shouting and sneering. And they both had avoided each other as much as possible. He wasn’t there for atonement or penance…he wanted to see. See her, her house, her husband. Gold wanted to see if everything was real, if she was real and safe and alive. He had a plan and he ought stick to it.

He looked at her while she grabbed a bowl and poured some cereal for her husband, and then opened the fridge to grab the carton of milk. She put everything on the table near her husband, and he didn’t even bother to thank her. Instead, he stood and said, “Let her be, dad. I don’t want my wife to be spoiled. She's strong enough to work and cook and do all the housework by herself. Isn’t that what a wife is for?” He shrugged, like he has just made a fine point and not said the most idiotic thing Gold had heard in centuries of life. "And now I'm going to bed. I'm tired." He grinned and left the kitchen, leaving the bowl full of cereal untouched and everything else still where it lay.

Sarah started cleaning the table and washing the dishes, calm and detached. Always looking down, never at him or towards the door that her idiotic husband had used. As if this was a common occurrence in this household. Like this was not her house but one of the places she went and worked all day cleaning other people's mess. And this thought turn Gold’s blood to ice.

“Is everything all right with the rent, Mr. Gold?” She asked after a moment, putting the cereal back on its shelf, “Did you receive the check?".

He was startled by the sudden question. “Yes, yes of course I got it," Gold answered and saw her shoulders relax a little. He struggled for a moment to find something else, anything to keep her talking. "It’s nice here. I don’t think I have ever visited your house."

She turned and stared at him, pondering his tone. Then she stated, dryly, “No, we never had the pleasure of having you as our guest, Mr. Gold."

A low whistle came from the kettle and she turned to fix his tea. Being with Belle had never felt so tense, Gold thought, dreading the silence and the weight they both seemed to have in their shoulders. She had to have been as uncomfortable with the situation as he was. He shouldn’t have done this, but he couldn’t stay away. He hadn't known that she was alive and here with her knight as a cursed husband, and with a baby growing in her belly. Gold needed to see her with his new eyes, wondering what had happened to her, why he couldn’t find her in the Enchanted Forest. Where was she when the curse was cast? _With whom_? 

Once again, he tried to banish these thoughts from his head, saying the first things that came to his mind: "Is everything all right with the house?," he heard himself ask in a brusque tone. She was startled and spilled a little water on the counter. “I mean, the heater, the water pipes?" he tried to gentle his tone, “is everything all right? Is there anything a landlord should know?"

“Do you want to raise the rent?” She choked out, her grasp on the mugs becoming too tight, her knuckles turning white. Gold felt the panic creeping into her voice even though she tried to fight it when she said, “No, you can’t. We can’t afford it… _I_ can’t afford to pay more, not with the baby coming”, she took beep breaths and, when he didn’t reply, she went on. “I didn’t manage to put anything away, and soon my hours will be cut down because I won't be able to lift as much weight and clean as I used to." She swallowed, “Please, don’t…”, she started sobbing, trying to stifle it in her hands. 

Gold watched Belle, his Belle, crumbling down in fear of him, of the future. He should make her stop, and immediately. "Calm down. Now," he ordered, his tone maybe too harsh, but she stopped immediately and looked at him while he rose from his chair and went to the sink to fill a glass of water. He gave it to her while telling to sit down and drink it all, slowly.

She did as he said, too used to being ordered around by everyone, he supposed. And while she regained control of herself he quietly poured the tea for both of them - mugs, because in this house there was no place for something delicate as a teacup. 'Or for books and family pictures,' Gold thought dryly, remembering the one time he went in Moe French’s house ages ago when both their sons were still in high school, to collect rent. The house was little but bright. But the detail that most impressed Gold was the kitchen, with a shelf full of books, not only recipes, and the fridge displayed pictures and drawings and grocery lists attached with colorful magnets. Moe shrugged, saying his daughter called the mess on the fridge the happiness altar. He, Gold, thought it was cozy. 

But this fridge was bare. Not a single note on it. Gold would have expected her to keep the tradition, and maybe stick on it even the baby's ultrasound - she must have had one done…hadn't she? She went to a doctor for a check-up, right?

“I’ll be late for work”, she spoke so feebly he might have missed it, pulling him put from his concern.

“I’ll give you a lift," he replied.

“Why?” 

“Because I am the one who has kept you here,” he said as if it was obvious, “And I do not like to be in debt to anyone." He drinks his tea, looking at her with his eyebrows raised till she drinks hers, too. In the silent kitchen, they could hear Greg already snoring upstairs.

Her hands were red an raw, rough from her work and he could faintly smell chemicals and bleach around her - he wondered if she had morning sickness and how she managed, looking at how her skin was tight against her cheekbones and how small and fragile she looked. The only soft thing about her, if you watched very carefully, was her belly already a little too round for her petite frame. If she felt sick, there was nothing she could do. It must be hard for her, but she couldn’t afford not to work. 

She didn’t say a word during the short ride. Looking out at the streets and pretty houses, they were approaching the good part of the town. He darted a glance at her face, and took in the dark shadows under her eyes. He wondered if she had slept at all. Was she awake every night till 3, hoping that Greg would come home after he closed the pub? 

Mr. Gold has known his son’s habits, so he wasn’t surprised to see him come home only in the morning, and he thought Sarah knew of her husband's infidelities. But the curse made her the loyal wife, trapped in an unhappy marriage, but too alone or afraid to break it up and leave. Most of all now, when in a few months she would be a mother. And his brain shouted again: _When._ _Who. Whose child is it…_

“Turn right here, Mr. Gold, and stop," she said, “This is Mrs. Hoffman’s house. Thank you."

Her quiet voice put an end to his questions and he did as she asked. He pulled over to the curb and stopped his car.

“Would you think about my offer, then?," he asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

She looked at him, uncertain. “Were you serious? I don’t think Greg would like…?”

“I know what my son would say, and I can assure you he’ll agree with me," he paused, adding in a more subdued tone, “or at least he will, after I talk to him." His son would not refuse him, and they both knew it. "I need a hand at the shop and obviously my son is not interested, but maybe you are. Soon it would be difficult for you to keep working the way you have till now, you said it yourself. And working at the shop, even if only for a few hours each day, would be better than nothing. Don't you agree, dear?” 

He saw her tense up as he used her own words, muttered in a moment of panic, against her. A pregnancy makes for poorly-paid maidservant, he thought ruthlessly. And now with the clock moving again the due date would approach and she would be jobless and with a husband who isn't so eager to support her. 

“You would give a job to a woman you hate? The one who robbed you of your only heir? The Gold-digger slut?" She asked, voice tense but controlled.

He hadn't expected her to answer back. Apparently, she was able to manage the bastard Gold while she was uncomfortable with the 'almost caring father-in-law Gold' when he tried to help her with the ladder in the kitchen. So he watched her, already absorbing that information about this cursed girl and thinking of ways to use it to his advantage. She continued, “I don’t believe in the kindness of strangers, Mr. Gold, and most of all I don’t believe in _your_ kindness." She sounded sad, not angry or resentful.

Mr. Gold decided not to push her into answering him, but to give her time to think. “Come to the shop this afternoon, dear, and we'll talk about the details of our little deal. Now, I am sorry but I have business to attend.”

She nodded once and got out of the car.

From the review mirror he could see her watching him leave, warily. Then she walked slowly towards the back of the house. A servant is not allowed to enter by the front door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the much delayed update. I feel horrible.

 

“'lo?” Sarah's words were slurry and a little rough. 

“I need you to go to the shop now, dearie, and start cleaning”, the tone was sharp, but the words were spoken slow and clearly.

“Mr. Gold?” she stuttered, suddenly awake and looking at the clock on her bedside table. She tried to figure out the hour in the dim light. Only 5.30 am. “What .. Why..?” .

He stopped all her questions, and she felt the impatience rising in his words. “I don’t have time to waste, dearie. Now, listen carefully: go to the shop as soon as possible and clean up the mess you’ll find there, you’ll understand what I mean, I am sure. I want everything fixed buy 8 o'clock. People should be able to pass by and don’t notice anything different”. He paused and when she failed to answer he said, “Do you understand or I have to repeat everything once again?”

“Yes.. I mean, no.. I understood. I’ll go and clean as soon as Greg..”

“No”, he shouted in the phone, making Sarah jump in her bed. Then he took a breath to steady himself a little. “Don’t wait for Gregory. Just go to my shop and clean, now. Then close up and drop the key in the letter box”.

“Has something happened, Mr. Gold?” She asked.

She waited a few seconds before he spoke “There was a … a misunderstanding. Nothing to be concerned about. And, Sarah, I don’t think I’ll need you today and tomorrow. I wouldn’t be in the shop. I am… otherwise occupied. But I expect to find everything in order if I stop by”.

“Ok”.

“Good. And don’t hurt yourself with the glass”. he added before hanging up.

Sarah looked down at her phone with a quizzical look, then she got up, washed and dressed in a rush. She fixed a quick, cold breakfast for Greg, leaving a note next to the bowl of cereals with a little sigh. She hoped he wouldn’t be so pissed when he came home and didn’t find hot coffee and scrambled eggs if he knew that she had to go so early because of his father’s request. Then she wrote another note with the instructions on how to work the coffee maker. Then she took her coat and purse and went out.

She reached Gold’s shop at 6.00 sharp, out of breath because she had to run a little along the road. She went to the back door and, yes it was open like Gold said, but what frozen Sarah's hand inches from the doorknob what the fact that the glass panel was in pieces. Someone broke in Mr. Gold propriety, she realized shivering. 

She swallowed and looked around, unsure. Should she call the sheriff? But Gold told her exactly to go to his shop and clean the mess. Why would he do that, and as soon as possible? She carefully opened the door using her sleeve to touch it so she wouldn’t cancel any proof, then she shook her head because if Gold told her to clean everything she will cancel every proof, every trace. Why would he do that was easy to imagine, she thought while entering the backroom, looking at the mess there, drawers and cabinets opened, papers and other items on the floor, glass shards near the door. Obviously someone had a dead wish Gold was only too eager to fulfill. 

In the shop she found a little trail of blood near the main counter, a dent in one of the cabinets. She could smell the pepper in the air, and it made her nose itch. 

The scene before her eyes gave her a pretty clear idea of what had happened. There had been a robbery, and Mr. Gold wanted her to clean up as soon as possible, and not let the sheriff collect the evidence. Has he already caught the thief? Was he going to deal with the matter in his own way, is that what she meant when he said he was “otherwise occupied”? She didn’t want to indulge in that train of thought so, after a few minutes of walking around she made up her mind and started doing the job she was paid for. 

It took her a few of hours to “clean the mess” like Gold said, and after finishing she was sure that whoever has broken in was searching for something very specific. 

She looked at all the items on display under the counter, cleaning it out of habit, even if was already sparkling and she could see her reflection on the glass. 

Sarah sighed and shook her head softly, stealing from Mr. Gold to get something back was certainly not the most sensible thing to do. Not if one was sane or wished to stay healthy. Only the desperate even come to Mr. Gold’s shop to made a deal or sell a possession, and Sarah knew this all too well. Like everyone else who has sold a precious item to the pawnbroker, she has always found herself looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of it and, maybe, be able to get back what had to be sold during a desperate situation years ago. 

She has cleaned the shop for weeks, now, and not once she has found what she was looking for. But her eyes kept looking around, ever if she tried not to. They would linger on every little thing, every piece of jewelry and every velvet box. 

She walked away, put on her coat and went out from the backdoor. She had fixed the broken window the best she could with a cardboard and tape, but she was sure Mr. Gold would take care of fixing it properly. She locked the door and dropped the key in the mailbox like she was asked to, before hurrying to go to Mrs. Potts. 

That very afternoon she was entering the supermarket to grab something to eat when Ruby called her.

“Sarah? We need you at granny. Are you free this afternoon?”, the girl asked.

Yes, I am” Sarah said moving aside from the supermarket’s door.

“You don’t have work to do? You seem quite busy lately”.

“ No, Mr. Gold is busy today so I don’t’ have to work for him this afternoon”.

Ruby tensed, her eyes narrowing a little. “We need you at the diner. Help cleaning the dishes and maybe finishing doing the rooms. You up to it, then?”

“Sure I am, but..” Sarah hesitated a little, “but I thought Ashley…” then she remembered the girl was approaching the term, an Sarah asked, concerned “is she all right? Is she having the baby?”.

“That’s none of your business”, Ruby bit back, and her brisk tone surprised Sarah. “Now, if you want the job come to the diner”. She said and turned, walking fast away from the supermarket. Sarah hurried behind her, startled. Ruby has never been harsh towards her. In the diner Granny, with her usual no-nonsense efficiency, said it has been a very busy day and Sarah needed to clean up everything as fast as possible. “But don’t do a lousy job, either”, the woman added with a meaningful glance, before rushing back in the kitchen. Sarah started cleaning and tried to not mind how brusque and annoyed Ruby sounded when she asked where they kept the mop and if it was ok to start with the diner’s restroom. Ruby has never been a friend, but they knew each other, in this small town, and despite being a few years apart when they crossed path on the street they usually exchanged a quiet smile and even a few words. Sarah finished with the restroom and put away the clean dishes before loading again the dishwasher. Now it was time to clan the rooms, she thought, and heading towards the corridor that separated the diner form the bed and breakfast she saw Ruby talk animatedly with a young, blonde woman. She must be the newcomer in town, Sarah thought. Emma Swan, the mother of the mayor’ son. 

 

Sarah didn’t heard from Gold the next day or the other. She easily went back to her pre-Mr. Gold routine, filling the free hours with the occasional cleaning here and there. She also went back to Granny’s to work in the afternoons, and the woman told her Ashley had her baby, a girl, and that she would hire someone new next week, ‘till Ashley could get back to work, but in the meantime Sarah could clean and wash. And so she did, regretting a little she wasn’t offered the job instead, she needed money. 

She didn't ask anything more about Ashley and the baby after the only time she approached the subject with Ruby, telling her to give Ashley her regards and asking the name of her daughter. “Why would you care? Haven’t you and your family done enough to that girl?” was Ruby’s reply. Years being married to Gregory Gold had taught Sarah that whatever her husband or her father in law do, she would be blamed, too. So she didn’t ask what or why, only excused herself and went back cleaning. That how’s her life worked in any case.

Only Friday afternoon she discovered exactly what had happened on the last few days, and how the mess in Gold’s Shop and Ashley Boyd’s baby were connected. Of all the people she has worked for, Mrs. Nolan was the nicest. Ready to share a chat and a cup of tea, to ask her some little things about the news, a book, a movie, and other silly little things. They weren’t exactly friends - but there was a warmth in their relationship that was really close to friendship. And Sarah knew she would miss going there twice a week to clean and do the laundry, but she also knew Kathryn had no other choice. With her husband coming home, the medical expenses and her taking a sabbatical from her job, Kathryn couldn’t afford to pay Sarah anymore. But she gave her a generous check and a good reference, telling her as soon as things were a little more stable she would call her back. Sarah usually didn’t believe when people said those kinds of things, but this time she knew it was the truth. And Sarah was really happy to be here today, even if it was the last time, to help Kathryn prepare everything for David’s welcome home party.

“I am glad you were able to come”, Kathryn said. They had finished cleaning and were in the kitchen. She was preparing a lasagna while Sarah was mixing ingredients for the muffins. 

Sarah smiled. “I am glad I am able to help. I am sure David would love the party”

“I hope so” Kathryn said simply.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be glad to see all his friends again”.

“But he doesn’t remember them.. He doesn’t remember me”, Kathryn said, defeated.

Sarah looked at her and tried to reassure the woman. “Hey, I am sure he will. Give him time to recover, and give yourself time too. Everything will be all right, I am sure. And one day your two will recall this evening with fond memories. And he will thank you again and again for inviting all the people who cares for him and cooking all its favorites”, Sarah said, gesturing at the food they were preparing in a teasing tone, hoping to lighten the mood. Kathryn gave her a fleeting, watering smile that reassured her a little.

“Well, I am trying, and if you couldn’t come I am not sure I would be able to cook all this stuff… and I am an hopeless baker!”

Sarah smiled. “You know how much I love cooking and how little opportunity I have to do it, so it’s my pleasure. And I was free this afternoon, so, no harm done”.

“I was unsure to call you or not, because I know you work for Mr. Gold in the afternoon. But I guess he has to clean up all the mess around Ashley Boyd baby, right?”

“What?” the word sounded strangled Kathryn turned around to see Sarah looking at her, spoon in mid-air and mouth open. She was uncertain what to say next, and chose to ask the girl directly. “Nobody has told you? What happened this week between Mr. Gold and Ashley Boyd?”.

Sarah tensed, and steadied herself with a deep breath, trying to concentrate on mixing the ingredients. “No. I suppose nobody thought I ought to know what was going on, and I don’t listen to the rumor mill in Storybrooke”. She shrugged lightly, she was used at being an outcast in this little town, but it stung all the same. “I just know that Ashley had a daughter and now I can add that somehow my family is… connected to this, and I doubt in a pleasant way”.

“No, definitely not pleasant”, Kathryn said, and she added, tactfully, “but we don’t need to talk about this if.. ”. 

Sarah stopped her. “No, I want to know what happened”. 

“In short, Ashley has signed a contract with Mr. Gold”, Kathryn told her after a while, “to give her baby in adoption. They say that Sean father arranged it, and knowing the man, I am fairly sure he did. Anyway, she changed her mind and tried to go away, leave the city. She was found by Emma Swan, she is like a private detective or something, she lives with Mary Margaret Blanchard, the school teacher”, Sarah nodded and Kathryn went on, “Ashley was almost out of town when her water broke. Luckily miss Swan found her in time and brought the girl to the hospital. I don’t know exactly what happened, but David told me that Sean came to the hospital, and that the nurses saw Mr. Gold and Miss Swan talk in the corridors. She must have been quite convincing because Gold left the baby with Ashley, and he didn’t ask for the money back”.

Sarah was silent for a few minutes, absorbing what Kathryn told her and filling the gaps. Suddenly it made sense. The mess at the shop. So it had been Ashley in the pawnshop three days ago, looking for the contract, and trying to back out from a deal with the pawnbroker. “She must have been really afraid, poor girl." Sarah realized she has spoken aloud only when she heard Kathryn reply.

“I think every mother would be afraid of being separated from her child". 

Sarah’s hand went instinctively on her belly. 

“Is that way you started working with him, Sarah?” Kathryn asked softly, “Did you made a deal with him for your baby’ sake?”.

Sarah looked at Kathryn, startled. “No. I did not”, she said quietly and Kathryn didn't ask further.

They continued to cook in silence for a while. “ Do you wish to come to the party tonight? I would like you to” Kathryn said, putting a cup of tea on the kitchen table before Sarah. 

“No.. It’s better if I don’t”, she replayed, checking the oven and adding the last touches to the cakes. 

“I didn’t mean to pry, earlier. And I am sorry if I upset you”.

“No, it’s not that, I just…”, Sarah sighed and took a sip of tea, hoping the warm drink could help to clear her mind. “I just never thought about it. For me it’s just another job. Or that is what I keep repeating to myself”. Kathryn nodded, drinking. She was one of the few people knowing Sarah was pregnant. But she was starting showing now, and as more people would know about her baby, more rumors would be spreading around. 

Sarah breathed deeply before continuing to talk. “Really. I just work for him like I do with everybody else, with one exception. When I work, usually the houses and the shops are empty - people don’t like strangers going through their possessions while they are watching, even if they paid them to do so. But Mr. Gold, he wants me to come to his shop almost every day, so he can tell me any moment to do a task or another. But he usually says to do what I think is most urgent and that’s all." She shrugged.

“Hey, I was here when you worked! At least once a week,” Kathryn exclaimed, half pouting, half joking.

“And that is exactly the reason why working for you was pretty unusual, at least once a week." Sarah smiled, relieved that the mood has lightened a little. She knew neither Kathryn or herself wanted to indulge in painful thoughts, at least not now. So they kept cooking, with a little chat and quietly relaxing again in each other company. 

After everything was ready and the kitchen was all cleaned up, Kathryn asked her again if she wanted to stay, but Sarah refused. She was tired, but must of all she wanted to go home. At the door Kathryn blurted out a question “Are you afraid of him?”.

Sarah stilled at the door, watching Kathryn. She didn’t need to ask who she was afraid of, but Kathryn mistook her silence and before she could say anything added, “Mr. Gold, I mean. Everybody in town knows he doesn’t really talk to your husband, or to you, at least till a few weeks ago. And now, after what happened with Ashley Boyd…” Kathryn trailed off, unsure as how finish her thought.

“I don’t know”, Sarah said slowly, “he offered me a job out of the blue, and I can’t refuse. Not only because he is who he is, but also because I need every job I am offered”.

Kathryn nodded quietly. “I am sorry I can’t afford to hire you anymore. As soon as..”

“No, no. Don’t…” Sarah said urgently, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me” they stood in silence for a while. Sarah knew Kathryn was concerned about her future, and was grateful at the woman for that. They both new she needed to work, need it almost desperately. 

“Do you think he would ever offer to you a deal like the one Ashley had?”, Kathryn asked, “There are other rumors going on in town about Gregory… and maybe Mr. Gold… You are expecting his grandchild, could it be that he wants to take care of the baby?”

Sarah has thought about that in the last weeks, and sure her pregnancy could be one of the many reasons Gold has offered her a job. But she wasn’t sure, and she doubt anyone could be sure of Gold’s real motivations. When she said that to Kathryn the other just nodded in agreement. 

But, just before she was leaving, Kathryn hugged her and told her, if she ever need anything, just to call her. “Don’t think, just call," she said again while closing the door. 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 “Charming," Gold said, watching David Noland observe intently the glass unicorns that once had hung above his child’s cradle. Even if the prince couldn’t remember, this man was fascinated by the object, drawn to it.

“What?” Said David, startled by Gold's sudden appearance behind the counter.

“The mobile," Gold smirked. He enjoyed this game a little too much, he thought, to play with this people like they were just chess pieces. He inclined his head and studied the prince, his cursed self, while they spoke.

David was ready to leave, the directions for the Toll Bridge in his mind, when something caught his attention once again.

“This belongs to me…” he whispered.

“The windmill?” Sarah, having just come out from the back with her purse in hand, asked the question to the dazed man. Is it possible to feel the curse stretch around Charming? Gold thought, while observing the blank canvas of David Nolan’s mind being filled with cursed memories.

“Yes," David said, looking briefly at Sarah and Gold, and then back at the windmill

“Are you sure?," she asked, and there was something in her voice Gold couldn’t quite detect.

“Yes.. I remember," David affirmed, and nodded a goodbye at them before walking away.

After a few seconds, Sarah turned toward Gold. “How did you know? You placed it there this morning. How did you know it was his?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about," he replied, shrugging and looking back at some papers on the counter.

She walked to the door. “He's not going to the bridge," she noted looking out.

“What makes you say so?” he asked, still not looking up.

“He's walking in the opposite direction. I think he is going…” she stopped and shook her head like she wanted to send away some thoughts. "Not my business anyway," she muttered. Then, adjusting the purse on her shoulder, she continued “I'm going home now, Mr. Gold." 

He nodded, but she didn’t leave right away. When he looked up he saw her looking at the windmill, eyes sad. 

“What do you think it must be like, not knowing who you are and then, suddenly, the memories erupt in your head? Would you be happy? Or would it just make your life a complete mess?”

He stiffened at her question. They had never really talked in the weeks since she started working for him. Not even when he had reopened the shop after the little problem with Ashley Boyd last Monday. He has called her and she came back, to work for him, but it took only one look at her for Gold to know that Sarah has heard almost everything about what happened. He had avoided almost every occasion to talk, and she wasn’t eager to exchange pleasantries, either. It’s just a job, for both of them, or so he said to himself at night. He wanted to check on her and be sure she was safe, not getting her caught in the power struggle he is creating between Miss Swan, Regina and himself. He would keep her safe, she and her baby. And maybe, observing her, he would find a clue on what had happened to Belle after he released her in the Enchanted Forest. 

“I have no idea." He choose to avoid a real answer, but, eager to hear more of her thoughts he asked her. “Why do you ask?” 

She shrugged, “I am just wondering if one should be grateful for having back the life they once were living, or would they regret having those memories back? Because they will steal away the only real possibility of changing your life, once and for all?”

This question struck too many aching points in his soul, so Gold didn’t answer and turned around to go in the back.

“David Nolan was going towards his house," she called after him.

He sighed, sensing this would never end till she had reached some conclusion, and spoke of the thing that was bothering her. And he must admit he was curious to know what it was. “Well, then I suppose I wasted my breath giving him directions for the troll bridge,” he replied, sounding annoyed.

“Maybe the bridge was the real place he wanted to go,” she mused. “But now that his past has dug its nails in him, he's no longer able to go." 

This is exactly the point, Gold thought, Charming being drawn to Snow, but David Nolan being tied to the curse. She sighed before adding, “What if in his old life the only things he did were mistakes? Will he ever be free of them now that he remembers?”

Gold looks at her before murmuring, “We are the choices we've made, dear. No one could ever escape that, not you, not me, and certainly not Mr. Nolan."

Her smile was small and tired. “I knew it. We are alike, you and me, Mr. Gold. We both think there is no hope at all, at least not for people like us. Goodnight." 

She walked out the door, then, leaving Gold alone in the shop. She thought there was no hope for her, or for him? That thought was so unlike the Belle he once knew that he felt his heart clenching, remembering how little Sarah French had never enjoyed much happiness.

 

——————————————————

 

Sarah walked home to find Greg’s breakfast still on the kitchen table, untouched. Greg hadn’t come home all week. It has happened before, although not for a full week, and Sarah has been calm the other evenings. But this night the sight of the table, the cold toast, the warm orange juice and the hard scrambled eggs hit her with force. Before she realised it she was crumbled on the floor, sobbing.

“Don’t lose it now. Not now”, she ordered herself, trying to stop the tears from falling. She took a few, deep breaths and stood. 

She tried to calm herself cleaning the kitchen, trashing the gummy eggs, fixing something for dinner. She looked at the board covering the broken window over the sink. She’ll need money to fix it, too. The sight made something in her stomach clench, but she forced herself to finish her soup. Her baby needed her to eat. When the phone rang she held her breath, counting the the seconds till it was mute again, then she relaxed. She used to feel safe in her kitchen, the only local in the house she liked, but now it was impossible to stay here and look at the window, afraid the doorbell would ring, or someone would call. Or something else would happen.

People has called all week. People Greg was in business with. Mostly people he owed money to. She had told them where to find him, being it at the pub or in Marina’s house, of course, but that hadn't stopped at least one of them from venting out his rage towards this place just the day before. Not the front, when passerby could have seen. She found the kitchen window broken. Someone threw a stone through it. “At least this didn’t happen when I was home”, she thought picking up carefully the pieces of glass and trying hard not to cry. She cut her hands trice that evening, her vision clouded by tears she didn’t want to let go. 

What if Greg returned home only to kick her out? Sooner or later his mistress would start talking about playing family together. Marina would like to move into the house with Greg, and be the new Mrs. Gold. No more the mistress, she has done it already for so many years… And Greg would say yes immediately and tell Sarah to pack her things and leave. He could do this, the house belonged to him, sort of, she was just the one to pay the bills and do the laundry and clean and cook. She was just a housekeeper. If she was lucky he would wait till the baby was born. He was sure they’ll have a boy and she knew Greg thought a grandson would be a powerful tool to win back in his father's favour, and, hopefully, his inheritance. 

Or maybe it would be Mr. Gold, Sarah thought, wiping the tears from her face. Maybe he would take this baby and raise it as his. Is that what he wanted to do with Ashley’s baby? He had planned to keep the little Alexandra and raise her himself? Or he was meant to give her to some lovely family who desperately wanted a child? But who would ask Gold to find a baby for them?

After the Boyd Affair, people said being raised by Gold would be a nightmare, but she doubted it. He would be strict and stern, sure, but Sarah has heard her husband telling anecdotes from his childhood for ages. And she herself remembered Greg as a kid and then as a teenager. Her child would need nothing. He would have all the best - best toys, best care, best clothes. Only her baby would not have a mother. 

In any case, she would be left with nothing. Not like Ashely... Sarah saw her today, cooing over her daughter, smiling and saying some nonsense at the baby. Sarah was truly happy for them, but she felt also something else, something she wasn’t proud of and tried to push away, close it in some deep part of her mind and act like it didn’t exist. But the feeling kept resurfacing: envy. Ashley was young and pretty and could start anew, even if she did gave Alexandra in adoption. And now the girl had everything: her baby and her love. And the support of Granny, Ruby and the new sheriff, and also many others who, suddenly, stop scorning the pregnant teenager and start praising and helping the lovely young mother who was almost tricked by Mister Gold. Small town people are like this. and for them Sarah would only be the gold-digger slut. Forever. No matter what she did.

Sarah stood from the floor and washed her face in the kitchen sink. She ate the cold breakfast she had made in the morning. Like last night, she double checked every window and the doors before going upstairs and closing herself in the bedroom. She tried to read a few pages from one of her old books, but she found it was impossible. Her eyes keep sliding on the printed words, but she wouldn’t remember them or grasp their meaning. She turned off the light and she lay down, holding tight her pillow and feeling her pulse race at every whisper coming from the street, and listing in her head the tasks for the next day to distract herself. Two hours at the inn, then Mrs. Hosgord's laundry. From 11 to 1 pm at the hospital and then there was the pawnshop. After a while Sarah finally closed her eyes and fell asleep.

 

——————————————————

 

Sarah was cleaning the shop’s windows. She had asked for weeks, but only this morning he allowed her. She had carefully removed and dusted all the items in display, stuff that hadn’t been touched or moved, nor to mention cleaned, for years, and then washed all the windows with hot water and old newspapers - “so the water wouldn’t leave a stain”, she has explained when he looked at her with an inquisitive look, and he tried to remember what she used in the dark castle to “let some light in”. 

“Did something happen?”, She asked him around 11. She was coming back after throwing out the blackened water in the bathroom and retrieving rags and products to make the shelves shine. “It’s all morning I see people go around and buzz like bees”.

“The sheriff is dead. They say heart attack”. He said, his tone nonplussed. 

He heard a low thud, followed by others, and he looked up. The empty bucket, the rags and the detergents, they were all dropped on the floor, and she was standing, looking at him with wide eyes, pale and shocked. 

“Graham?”, she gulped “Graham is dead? What.. How?” She started shaking and her hands grabbed the counter for support, looking down at it. “this is not true. This couldn’t be. Graham is young.. He is strong”. She raised her head and looked at him, directly into his eyes, almost pleading “You are wrong. He can’t be dead”.

He watched her in disbelief, and before he could say anything she ran to the back. She was crying. He heard her sobbing while she took her old coat and purse and literally ran away from his shop using the back door. 

It took him a few more minutes to gather himself and shrug away the stillness that had him since her first sob - how could a woman tears paralyze him in fear and made him so helpless he couldn't even reach to her and try to comfort her?

He cleaned up the place while in his mind he concentrated on his next moves, setting the images of a crying, broken Belle aside in his mind. With the sheriff gone he needed to put Miss Swan in a more stable position in Storybrooke. So he kept thinking, plotting and planning almost desperately, everything to forget. 

The last time he saw the sheriff, in the forest surrounding Storybrooke, they talked about dreams. Gold knew the sheriff was remembering, even if just bits and pieces. They were shattering his brain, putting holes in it no one could ever mend, not even the powerful Dark One. Well, with the exception of Miss Swan, of course. He has teased the sheriff, there in the middle of the forest. Teased and hinted and enjoyed watching the man come apart. He said to the confused hunter that dreams are memories of another life; Nightmares are, too. He wondered if, or when, others will start remember. Will they have dreams and nightmares upsetting them, throwing them of balance, messing with their brains, their hearts, their souls? Will they feel lost? Will _she_? 

He could imagine this, but he wouldn’t. Sarah dreaming of the future, lying in bed next to.. Who? Gold knew for sure Greg hadn’t come home in days. Things were changing in Storybrooke, and looked like the mayor pushed his little son away from his wife, towards the welcoming hands of another woman. Or maybe it was just the time flowing again. In the enchanted forest, before Regina cast the curse, Belle knew she was pregnant for sure. Was she happy, in those few weeks? Was she making plans for the baby, dreaming the future in bright colors? Had she ever spared a thought for an old love, lost years before, while smiling at a new one? 


	5. Chapter 5

Emma entered cautiously in the pawnshop. She didn’t want to talk to the man, in truth she wished she could avoid him altogether, but he had called the sheriff’s station and it was her duty to go and hear what he needed, or wanted. Pity she couldn’t send someone else in her place, or get rid of him. Thinking about him brought a bad taste in her mouth, and an unpleasant feeling in her gut… and she owed him, too. What a mess. 

The door was open, but the place looked empty.

“Gold? You in here?”, she said aloud, walking inside.

“Well, it is his shop”. 

The comment, low and a little sarcastic, came from behind her. Emma jumped and turned. There was a young woman, roughly around her own age, seated on the floor near the bookshelves right to the entrance. Emma didn’t notice her before because she was behind other pieces of furniture full of.. stuff, old stuff. The woman was dusting some books, and she was putting the book in her hand carefully down before raising her head and smiling apologetically at her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you”.

“Don’t worry”, Emma replied with a shrug, “I just didn’t expected someone behind me”. 

“Well, no one ever does”, the woman smiled again, mischievously. “Mr. Gold is in the back. If you are looking for him”, she added, pointing with her chin to the workroom direction.

“Yes, I am. Thank you”. Emma turned and walked towards the curtain separating the shop form the back, then she stopped and walked back to the woman. “I am Emma Swan, by the way”.

“I know, deputy Swan”. She smiled. “And you are also Henry’s birth mother. I saw you at the sheriff’s funeral with him”. 

Emma watched the woman carefully, trying to remember her, but there were too many people at Graham’s burial, and only a few came to her saying something: Doctor Hopper, Ruby and her Granny, David. The woman finished cleaning the books and started to get herself up. Only then Emma noticed she was pregnant, more from the slow and careful way she was moving around than from her belly, mostly covered by an old, big sweater. Emma didn’t like it, the idea of another young pregnant woman near Mr. Gold. 

Emma extended an hand automatically to help her, and she grabbed it, releasing her grip immediately after. Emma looked at her belly trying to estimate how many months she was. The woman noticed her stare and blushed. “Thank you”, she said, then added, ”I am Sarah. You should.. Go in the back.. To Mr. Gold. If you need him. I am sorry not to show you the way I… I must finish this, it’s almost time for me to go to my next job”. She licked her lips, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Yes, of course”, Emma nodded, and walked towards the backroom, her focus on the little noises the girl was making putting away the old books. She must ask around about this Sarah, if she needed help, the deputy thought. She would start asking Mary Margaret about her tonight. Emma came abruptly to the present when a horrible smell hit her nostrils.

“Whoa. What is that?”. She exclaimed trying to stop the nausea. 

Gold was sitting on a worktable, a brush in his hand.

“It’s lanolin”, smiled Gold. “Serves for waterproofing”.

Emma wrinkled her nose suddenly realizing the main reason why the pregnant woman was keeping her distance from the back room this morning, hopefully.

 

A few hours later Emma was entering the Sheriff' Station with the town charter under her arm - courtesy of Gold - and a thermos full of Granny’s strongest coffee, when she saw a woman sweeping the floor. The same woman she met a few hours before.

“You are the girl in Mr. Gold' shop!”, Emma exclaimed.

The girl tensed and said, without turning, “Yes, deputy Swan, it's me”.

“What are you doing here?”, Emma asked, suddenly suspicious.

She looked down at the broom in her hands, then looked at Emma. “I clean here. Two hours once a week. But of course if you don’t want me too, deputy Swan, I can resign and you may hire someone else”.

“You clean here?” Emma tilted her on the side, “You were cleaning at Mr. Gold’ shop, too”.

“Yes” she explained, patiently. “It’s my job, two hours here, one there, in houses and shops and offices. I think I did something in almost every house in town during the years. Doing other people laundry, mending their clothes and sometimes cooking or babysitting for their children”.

“I see”. Emma looked at her and then around the room. 

“Well, I go, then” the woman said fidgeting, uncomfortable. 

Emma stopped her at once “No, no it’s fine. I mean, you can go on working here. Once a week you said?”. When she just nodded in response, Emma said, “Well, it’s fine with me , too. But I would appreciate if you could come here every day this week”. She looked around helplessly. “With the elections coming up I need to put everything in order and this place must be sparkling clean”. 

“And Graham wasn’t the best in filing and putting things in order”, the woman said, smiling fondly at the piles of documents stacked everywhere. “I can help you with that too. Sometimes, when Graham was really exasperated, I helped him”. She sounded sad, and Emma fought her own sadness at the thought of Graham.

“Yes, I.. I would like that. Four hands work better than two. And you already know the place. Sounds right…” Emma paused for a second. “I am sorry but I don’t remember your name”, she added, trying to push the woman to say her full name so Emma could search if she was ever mentioned in one of those files. 

“Sarah”, she hesitated for an instant before shaking her hand delicately with Emma’s extended one. 

For Emma it wasn’t enough so she pressed, tightening her grip “Sarah…?”.

“Sarah Gold”, the woman, Sarah, said, grimacing a little.

“Gold as Mr. Gold?”, Emma said disbelieving, but then, suddenly, suspect crept in her face when Sarah didn’t answer. Emma looked directly at the woman’s belly, raising and eyebrow.

“You are Gold’s… wife?” Emma enquired in what she hoped was the best of her professional tones. The man didn’t wear a wedding band, but this could mean nothing. 

Sarah freed her hand and put it over her belly, as to shield it from the Emma’s stare.

“No. No, I am his…”, she sighed. “I married his son, Gregory. That’s all”. 

“Ah”, was all the deputy said, shoulders relaxing a little. She heard rumors of a disinherited son, but Emma wasn’t interested in the details, not till now. 

“Yes. Ah”, Sarah repeated with a twitching in her mouth that Emma wasn’t quite able to interpret. Relief she didn’t have to explain the situation? Or a slight annoyance thinking she would have to tell the deputy at least the basics of Mr. Gold's family relations? Well, thought Emma, let’s keep all the questions for another day, when I know a little more of this woman. And she was pretty sure she didn’t need to ask Sarah directly. God bless the rumors mill in Storybrooke! 

“I suppose I don’t need to tell you that everything you hear and see here is strictly confidential”, she said, looking at Sarah directly in the eyes.

“Yes I know”, Sarah nodded.

“And it’s Emma, by the way. Call me Emma”. She smiled. 

Sarah gave her an odd look, finally setting for an almost trustful one. But her little smile looked frank and open to Emma when she replied. “And I prefer Sarah”. 

 

 

—————————————————————————

 

Things were going quite alright, so, of course, she should have expected everything to crumble down again. This was the only thought that crossed Sarah’s mind coming home that night and finding that all Greg’s clothes had vanished, and then she found his note - on the bathroom mirror! - saying he has left her and will let her know what to do with the house and all his stuff.

All the rest was a blur. Time should have passed, but she didn’t remember having left the house to go to work, or to buy food - so maybe she didn’t. Maybe she has barely moved from her spot on the floor on the left side of her bed. Has she really spent the last hours, or was it days?, huddled up in a ball on the old rug, living on cold watery tea and stale cookies and some bread she found somehow in the kitchen cabinets? The empty mug was looking at her from the floor, too. It must have rolled away while she was distracted, and now it was too far from her reach, but also the kitchen was far away, so Sarah just stared at it, from her position, the only comfort the feeling of the blanket around her. The light blue one her mother knitted while she was expecting her. 

Blue not because she thought she would have a son instead of a daughter, but blue because it was her favorite color - the color of her and her husband’s eyes, of the sky in spring and of forget-me-nots. The one Sarah kept in a box with lavender blossoms. She must have taken it from her wardrobe before falling apart.

Mr. Gold came to her house and found her like this. She didn’t noticed him entering her room, her house. She didn’t hear his angry call. And he was angry, oh, he was so angry. Shouting something about missing work and the rent’s money and then something about Gregory… something she didn’t understand.

“Greg? He.. ”. She whispered softly, as if trying to give a meaning to what Gold was saying, but she was able to catch only her husband’s name. It was like her employer was speaking in tongues. She tried to tell him where Greg was, that it’s been a few days since he last came home, that if Gold needed him he’d better go to Marina’s house. But this wasn’t what Gold wanted to know, and Sarah frowned as his voice became rougher and higher.

He was saying something… something about the house… And she tried to listen, really tried, but she was so tired. Then, suddenly, she understood every single word shouted at her. Greg has sold the house back to his father. She now is homeless, poor and alone. She could as well forgot her job at the shop, too. 

Sarah looked at Gold , eyes wide. “No, don’t take away my house, please.. Don’t!” she cried, panicking at his ferocious expression. “Don’t send me away. Please. I will have nothing, my baby.. My baby needs a home, please, it’s your nephew, that should mean something…”.

“And why would I care for a baby, tell me, girl. Because it’s family?” He laughed and she felt shivers running down her spine, it was a cruel sound, mocking and harsh. “Why would I care for this baby when even my son doesn’t give a damn about it? Now, I want you out of my propriety”.

“Mr. Gold, please”, she begged.

“I said, Out. Of. My. Propriety”. He spitted out, grabbing her arm and bringing her out of the room towards the stairs, telling her that she was unfit to be a mother, not having even a home or a husband. She stumbled in the corridor and could feel the painful grip of Gold’s hand release her all at once while she was falling down, her cries covered by a crashing sound.

 

She was still screaming when she woke up, alone, in her bed. Her hands grasping Greg's note and the blue baby blanket she held for comfort the night before while falling asleep in a house now really empty.

 

 

 

—————————————————————————

 

 

The mayor wasn’t pleased with him. But the only thing he did, Gold thought dryly, was finding a loophole in the town chart and suggesting Miss Swan to go up against Sidney Glass, Regina’s puppet. He had anticipated her reaction, as he always did. And then, when she came to his shop to complain, he politely asked a very furious Regina if he must move some things and make a bit of space for her rage. Never been able to understand quips, this one.

What he wasn’t expecting was Sarah. She wasn’t meant to work at the shop this afternoon, and it was just bad luck she had to run into the mayor when she was leaving.

“Oh, look who we have here. The little Mrs Gregory Gold”, the mayor said on his door, a predatory smile on her lips. 

“Madam Mayor”, Sarah said in greeting. But something was off with her, she was pale, and tired. 

“What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Mrs. Gold”, Regina looked from him to Sarah, and smirked.

“I… I need to talk to Mr. Gold”, Sarah said self consciously, looking around in search of him. But a sharp tug form Regina forced her to look at the woman again.

“Such formality towards your father-in-law”, Regina said, trying to sound gentle, “although, given your past… But I am sure things are better now among the two of you. It all happened long time ago, the shouts, the scandal…. Ten years, right? With an husband so devoted, I do wonder how comes you still don’t have any children. You know they say nothing like a baby could bring a family together”.

Sarah blushed, holding her coat tight around herself, trying to disappear in it. He wanted to step in, but couldn’t. Not now. Mr. Gold had never cared much about Sarah, so he couldn’t just tell Regina to go bitching somewhere else, not when this may put the mayor in alert, or, worse, put Sarah in danger.

“Maybe” Regina mused, “it’s already too late for this, giving how your husband is otherwise busy”.

When Sarah blushed and tried to move past the woman, Regina grabbed her arm with enough force to bruise, stopping her once again. Sarah put her hand on her belly. It was just a reflex, but the little movement caught Regina’s attention and she narrowed her eyes. 

“Oh!”, Regina exclaimed, “looks like I was wrong”, she put and arm around Sarah’s shoulders, holding her still and keeping her near. “You are so thin… Should I congratulate the happy mom, or not?” she asked, a vicious smile on her lips. At the sight Gold felt bile rise in his mouth.

Sarah just swallowed and nodded. Her belly would be noticed, soon or later.

“What a wonderful news”, Crooned Regina. She watched around and said, not bothering to hush her voice. “And the father of course is…” the mayor paused, “…your husband Greg, right? These days you can never be sure of something that once used to be so simple”, she practically purred.

“I - I don’t understand… Mayor Mills” Belle was tense, lips pressed in a thin line and hands clenching in fists at her sides.

“Oh, my dear! Don’t take me wrong, it was just a joke, or half a joke” Regina opened her mouth to add something and then closed it, watching Sarah with a look full of pity, “But I am afraid tongues are wagging, my dear”, she said in a loud whisper, knowing all too well Gold could hear her, “not about you, of course. But, you know, your husband’s little… infidelities, they are really public, and the biggest ones are too. It’s hardly difficult to notice, not with him practically living with his mistress”. 

“What are you implying?” Sarah’s words were strangled, and Gold could see she was fighting away the tears. 

“My dear, I was just wondering if, after ten years in that kind of marriage, maybe you have been looking around, and directed your affections towards someone more suitable and respectful of you. You are still a pretty little thing, not like you used to be, but I am sure there are men out there eager to warm your bed and help you forget your husband. Oh, no need to be shy or blush. We are all adults here and no one would blame you, my dear, of course no one would… especially if you wanted a child. I know how you felt. But”, she smiled “I made a different choice, I am not the type of woman who would sleep around to get what I want… I just hope this time you choose someone better than Gold’s keen”.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak but made no sound. It was Gold who hissed, storming out from behind the counter. “I think this is enough. Now, go out of my shop and leave my employee alone, please. Madam Mayor”. He couldn’t stop himself, but he had enough of his temper under control to add a few words beneficial to Regina, “I pay her to work, not to have a chat and be lazy”. 

It was Sarah the one who flinched, like she has just remembered where she was standing and that he would be close enough to hear every word said by the Mayor. Fear was written plainly in her face, but Gold didn’t notice. As soon as Regina was out, looking suspicious and possibly more furious than before, he walked towards Sarah. She looked at him, the panic coming. She has never seemed afraid of him, truly afraid, till now. “It’s not true” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I swear I am not sleeping around. I am not cheating on your son. I never did”. The last words came out strangled.

“Shh, shh, calm down, girl. Breathe. I know you are not. All the things that woman says are just poison”. He tried to soothe, to sound calm, but he was still tense.

“You believe me?” She asked looking at him wearily, not daring to be surprised, or relieved, or both. Not yet. The uncertainty and the weariness in her eyes were so plain even Gold could see them. 

“Yes I do”. He closed the shop’s door, and walked her brusquely towards the counter. Sarah wiped the tears from her eyes. 

“Silly hormones”, he heard her whisper softly, joking with herself. But she was still trembling.

“I would never betray my husband”. She kept saying in a low voice, more to herself than to Gold. “It’s Greg’s baby. I would never cheat. I promised him forever and I keep my promises. Even if he has left me. I came to tell you that, Mr. Gold. Greg has left the house, but I promise I’ll keep paying you all the same…” she was raising her voice, now. But Gold didn’t heard her, or registered her last words.

A wave of nausea has assailed him and the thoughts he kept at bay in the past weeks were shouting in his head. He felt the rage creeping inside him. How could he comfort her, or listen to her, when the only thing he wanted was trash something, everything, grab her and shook her hard like he did once in his castle.. She promised _him_ forever, not Greg - that pity of knight that once was Gaston. HIM.

But he didn’t deserve her. Not Sarah, and not Belle. Villains don’t deserve good princesses. 

One thought kept swimming in his head, pounding in his brain. Who was the father of her baby? Whose child was growing inside her? Had she found another love in the Enchanted Forest? Will she be yearning for him and eager to run into another man’s arms when the course breaks? Would he be able to look at them? A happy family kept apart by very the curse he made? Would Belle resent him for having ruined her life once again?

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

He was so tired. The struggles of the last few days were catching up with him. Mr. Gold wasn’t young anymore, and without magic the all nighters were affecting him more than they used too.

Last night he left the debate at Town Hall as soon as Miss Swan said to everyone he was the arsonist, the one who set the fire and almost killed Regina. When he stood from his chair in the back of the hall his face was dark and blank, carefully hiding his satisfaction. The Savior was indeed the daughter of Charming and Snow White. Bold and brave, always doing the right thing. A natural born leader, even if she would never believe that. Well, he did count on that peculiarity of hers in his plan.

The only thing souring his victory was the tiny glimpse of Sarah's face watching him leaving. There was something in her eyes that he could only label as disgust, and he had to look away. In three hundred years he has never thought victory could taste that sour, and no amount of alcohol could wash the unpleasant flavor away. Not even telling to the oblivious Savior, just the next day, that she had exactly followed the path he has created for her brought the relief he so desperately needed. He may be one step closer towards his goal, but this morning Gold was doubting he would ever see Sarah again. And with Greg gone she will probably go back to her father and try to mend their relationship. She sacrificed herself for her family once, so her old home would be her safe harbour. At least he hoped so.

Gold felt his fingertips itch. He had wanted to skin Lord Maurice alive in the Enchanted forest, after Regina lied to him about Belle’s fate - another little thing the Queen will soon explain to him, and in detail. But Rumplestiltskin made a deal with Belle, her in exchange for the safety of her family and friends. And he never broke a deal, no matter if the other party was… gone.

He tried to concentrate on the fact that, with Emma now sheriff and a major character in Storybrooke’s little playground, he was one step closer to finally see this curse broken. And then he will be able to go and find Baelfire - it took so long. He went to his safe and took out a little porcelain cup - setting it aside with a sigh. He then grabbed the old shawl that belonged to his son, pressing it on his face and inhaling deeply, imagining he could still smell his boy' scent on it. “I am coming, Bae. Please wait for me, I am coming to you, at last”.

In the past weeks the thought of his son, of finally being in this world without magic after so many years of struggling, had helped him focus. That and looking over Belle.

He thought he had destroyed her once, in their old world, and a part of him died with her - the better part, the part that reminded him of Bae's papa before fear and magic tainted him- , leaving only a hollow heart - oh, his Belle didn’t know how exactly she had foreseen his future. And the only thing left to him to hold on, desperately trying not to crumble down, was this frenzy: the matchmaker Rumpelstiltskin for the royals, so they will be together and powerful enough to back Regina in a corner where the only move she had left was to cast the damned curse - his damned curse. A desperate soul like him, hoping for an happy ending in this world, when she would be powerful and wealthy and everybody in town had to submit to her will. Everybody but him - not completely, at least not now he remembered.

Remembering is the worst curse. He realized suddenly that night, the night Emma came in Storybrooke and he went home, seeing the picture with Gold and his fake son on his wall. The knight had still been in his castle, enchanted away in the form of a single red rose he gave her the very day he realized he loved her and, you foolish coward, he cast her out. The curse gave Gaston his human form back, and tied him to Gold. And through Gaston, Belle came in his life once again.

Several weeks later, Mr. Gold still wondered what had made him sick that night. Knowing she was still alive and that he has failed her once more when he had searched and searched for her back in their world? Knowing she was married without love or happiness? Because there is no place for that in Storybrooke, he made sure of this. For all these years she has been here, and if he only had knew he could have… what? Rescued her? Gold snorted at the thought.

Maybe that first night after Emma came he was sick because he knew that, despite being married with his son, despite her being family, Mr. Gold has once again shut her out, cast her away from his life, forever. And Gold knew in that instant, looking around to the family pictures on the wall and not finding a single one with Sarah, that everything had to stay the way Regina wanted it.

Sarah must stay out of his life, out of his plans, out of his sight. She must be safe, she and her baby. Safe because if he kept her close Regina would start to notice something. Safe because he hurt her once, and he will hurt her again, like he did to every person he cared: Milah, Bae, even Cora. Safe because Belle didn’t came back to him, didn’t chose him in the end, and he couldn’t ask Sarah why.

There was someone out there who has been ripped from Belle’s side when the curse - HIS curse - came. Someone who was able to earn her love, and who gave her the baby she was bearing.

Gold swallowed hard at the thought of Belle and someone else. She was so brave and true and she deserved every happiness. She had faced the world again - alone and brave - and found someone else, someone who could cherish her the way she deserved. It may not have been true love. The one able to break every curse. The one they had and that almost broke his curse. But he would respect her decision, and, if she would allow him to, he would bid her farewell, hoping and wishing for her happiness.

But lying in bed the night he remembered, he made up his mind about her. He put aside his hurt pride reminding himself he has been the one to sneer upon their love, to cast her out and chose power over her - and in a tiny part of his soul he hoped he had refused her for the possibility of seeing Baelfire again. Too. Because without his powers there could have been no way for him to find his son. But he was just being delusional. Power was the main reason, an addiction that had made Rumplestiltskin greedy. And now Gold vowed his seek of power would never hurt her or everyone she cares about, not again.

Gold would keep her safe, she and the baby. And that was all. Storybrooke was changing, rapidly. He would keep an eye on her, and then, when the curse will be broken, she would run back towards the man she had chosen, and he would face this new world, alone, looking for Bae. Or so he vowed.

 

 

 

The bell on the shop door rang, and Gold put away Bae’s shawl and pocketed the cup before looking up, surprised when he saw Sarah moving aside the curtain and walking in the back room.

“Why are you here?”, he asked, words chocking in his mouth.

“I work here” she pointed out quietly.

He cleared his throat, putting up his mask again.“Yes, you do” he acknowledged. “But after the other night at Town Hall I thought that maybe you changed your mind”.

She looked at him behind the work table, tilting her head to the side “I really doubt you will set fire to your own shop. At least not when you are inside, working. You are not that stupid”, she replied simply and boldly.

It was so unusual for Sarah to reply in such way, that Gold studied her. They never talked, not really. And after her meeting with Regina the week before she barely said a word towards him. She had passed almost every day working with Emma Swan at the Sheriff’s station, helping out for the incoming election. She came to the shop and worked as usual for a few hours, and then flew out again, going around town with Mary Margaret to give out flies or going to the other places she still was working at. Maybe it was being around the Savior…, Gold had noticed how around miss Swan the cruse cracked faster, showing fissures and holes were the truth was visible. Veiled still, but there.

Gold decided to push the matter aside, too bewildered, and turned towards his desk. He took an envelope from his drawer. He thought of sending it or leaving it at her house, but there was no need now. “Here is your pay”, he said simply as soon as she had finished putting away her coat and her purse on the usual chair.

She nodded and came close to him, picking up the envelope from where he left it on the table - he was too tempted to touch her, so he avoided every contact - and started counting the money.

“There is everything, dearie, you don’t need to count”, he said dryly, arching an eyebrow. Her diffidence was helping him to keep his distance, to became Mr. Gold again.

“I know”, she said, pulling out several other bills from her jeans pocket and adding them to his money. She counted the sum again, and then put it on the table. “This is for this month’s rent, and the next”.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

“It’s quicker than writing you a check and my bank account is empty”, she shrugged, “I just got paid by Emma… Sheriff Swan, so I have the money with me. Or do you want a check?”, she asked suddenly, “I’ll bring it back tomorrow. After I deposited the money in the bank, if you prefer”.

“No, no” he struggled to maintain his cool surface, “it doesn’t matter”.

She looked at him and then at the money. “Aren’t you taking it?”.

“Of course, dearie, of course”, he said, reaching out with one hand and starting to count the money.

“There is everything, you don’t need to count”, she said, mocking his earlier statement.

A wolfish grin was on his lips, and he said, “I know dearie, but better safe than sorry”.

She let out a breathless little laugh at that, tilting up the corner of her mouth in an almost smile that startled him maybe more than her laughter. “I guess you are right. And you are the businessman here, not me”.

He relaxed and, without thinking he asked, “Why are you still paying rent?”.

She stiffened, “Because otherwise you would evict me”.

He shook his head slowly, and tried to explain, “No. What I mean is… my son.. Greg is no more living there”. He saw her blush, fist clenching on her sides. He sighed, but went on, “So why are you still paying his bills? You can leave that big empty house and find a nice little place with a fairer rent than that. I am sure your friends will help you”.

She closed her eyes and swallowed before saying. “It’s none of your concern. At least as long as I keep paying rent, Mr. Gold. That house has been my home for ten years, and it still is, despite you or Greg”.

“That wasn’t what… I didn’t mean to upset you”, he amended.

“Yeah, right”, she snorted.

“You can always go back to your father” he said tentatively, eyes fixed on the money.

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Sarah’s reply was controlled but furious. “It’s been ten years since I talked to him last. Greg wasn’t the only one cast out from his family when we married, Mr. Gold, although you and your son at least kept a little civility”, she paused, inhaling.

When she spoke again, her tone was slightly more controlled. “The first Christmas I went to see him, I wanted to invite him to dinner and give him his present. It was just a scarf I knitted, nothing precious, but that’s how it was in my family, you know, little money, little gestures”, she looked down at her hands, like she could still feel the wool under her fingers. “He threw the scarf in the garbage, with the rotting flowers and told me he didn’t know me. His little daughter, he said, had a bright future in front of her, she would go to college and see the world and not get married at 18 to a good for nothing just to get his father’s money”. She let out a mirthless laugh and shrugged. “I don’t think I would be welcome in a house where for ten years I was considered dead”.

“I am sorry to hear that”, he said, in a hushed tone, not daring to look at her. He knew that if he did, he would do something foolish like walking around the table that stood between them and hug her whispering pleas and apologies and vowing to kill the bastard who had done this to her - promises of safety made in another land be damned. Except that all this had happened because of his curse, his plan, his scheming.

“Oh, please! Don’t”. She spat at him. Then she turned and went to the shop to start her job, but at the door she added, as an afterthought. “All my father said and all he did, was also said and done by you. So spare me your pity or mock concern, for I do not believe it”.

He flinched like he had been slapped. He lowered his head, grasping the table for support, trying to ban the thoughts from his head. He knew those were false memories created by the curse, but they didn’t hurt less just because they weren’t true.

Gregory Gold has always been stupid and worthless - all the pointless bravery the knight has shown in the enchanted forest when he came in rescue of his princess had vanished. This cursed man, his son, was just a moron. Barely able to manage his own pub, and all the money he made went into his pleasures: gambling and his mistress.

And now Gold knew for certain what he only suspected before. All the money he was receiving for the last 28 years - ruthless Mr. Gold was making his own son paying rent, the rates a little lower than usual, but not by much - came from her, from her tired face, her rough hands, her sad expression. It was the 19-years-old freshly married Sarah who came in his pawn shop to negotiate the terms of the rent, he remembered with a stab of pain in his chest. A few weeks after that disaster of a wedding, she faced the man who has publicly called her a whore, a gold digger, an opportunist slut, and disinherited her husband. The brave little girl faced the monster because she had received an eviction notice, signed by him. She didn’t know Greg has mortgaged the house to his father to pay his gambling debts (no more daddy paying, now that you are out of grace) and to buy a share of the pub and the alcohol license. Using all her money, too. The money her mother had left her to go to college.

Mr. Gold remembered his sense of triumph being the one to let her know that all her hopes and dreams were shattered. And if she didn’t have the money in two days she’d better leave his propriety, together with her sorry excuse of an husband.

And that was the beginning of the endless days of her job, cleaning houses and shops, doing the laundry for other people, occasionally tutoring or babysitting in the weekends. And, when asked, making baked goods for a few of her “ladies”. Two days later the first of a long list of neatly written check came, signed Sarah Gold.

And now Gold, listening the little noises Sarah was making in the shop while cleaning, turned and walked towards his desk. He put away her money and he retrieved a little velvet box from a drawer. He didn’t need to open it to know what was inside. A golden necklace with a tiny diamond tear, together with the first check signed by her. Sarah sent her friend Ruby to sell her mother's necklace, hoping he wouldn’t know; she got less than she thought, and it covered only two third of the money they owed him.

Gold remembered how he felt that day when he saw the check, so pleased with himself for having crushed the little girl's feelings and hopes, thinking that it had been too easy, not the challenge he had expected from the smart girl who tutored his son and talked with him, as amazingly as it sounded, if they crossed paths.

 

He was finishing adjusting and old watch - a long and difficult task he hoped would keep his mind and hands busy for the time she would work in the shop - when she entered in the back room to retrieve her things before going. Gold looked at the watch in his hands, and then at the old clock on one shelf, they hadn't exchanged a single word in more than two hours.

“So”, she said in a lighter tone he thought she had never used with him, while buttoning her coat, “the election went as planned”. Apparently, the cleaning had somehow made the storm hanging over their heads disappear. He was relieved, so he replied trying to sound quiet. “You think so?”.

“Well, yes. You wanted her elected and there she is, the sheriff of this town”.

“People voted for her”, he shrugged, “and I assume you voted for her, too”.

It was so easy to follow the old path of talking lightly with her, like she was still Belle, and they were still in the dark castle, before he ruined everything.

She nodded “Emma is nice, and strong. She will do good things for this town, not bending to anyone, not even you”.

“You are daring today, dearie”, he observed.

“No more than usual.. Or maybe is all that working with the sheriff, some of her bravery may have rubbed off on me”. He bent his head to hid a smile, trying to school his features, while she added, “And you really worked hard to get her elected, but I doubt you are surprised your plan worked perfectly”.

He looked suddenly up, arching an eyebrow at her.

She bit her lip, looking at him, and then explained. "Going against Regina is one thing, but Emma has already done that several times, and every single time it was something that, one way or another, was about Henry and for Henry. This time you made her go against you, you pushed her knowing all the time how she would have reacted. How many people would have done this, go against the most feared man in town? I can answer you. No one”.

“Oh, really? Do you think I planned everything?”, He felt the corners of his lips twitching. Always the smart one, this girl.

“Yes, and you know it”. She chastised him. “You knew it all along. She is an honest person. So she stood against you, like you knew she will, and she won. Exactly how you planned, isn’t it?”.

“And what exactly makes you think so. Do you have any evidence, dearie? Of just your foolish words?”

She shrugged. “It just.. It makes sense. Nothing else did. No matter how long I mulled over everything last night. And as soon as I tried to be logical, use my head and not be only indignant of what you did, I could see it clearly: she would have never found out you set the fire if you didn’t want her to. That is how you work, Mr. Gold. And, of course, I am well aware that if you wanted someone dead, there would be no hero to save them”.

He turns to put the old clock in its proper place, hiding the smile cornering his lips. “Such a praise!”, he smirked, “you don’t mind if I take your words as such, do you?”

“Would it change anything if I did?”, she replied, in a mocking tone that mirrored his.

Gods, the little smile at the corners f her mouth was so similar to those Belle used to wear in their land, in those last happy moments with him. And Sarah looked at him like she knew a secret he didn’t, and was deeply amused by it.

“She is one of a kind”, Sarah said watching him carefully.

He cleared his head, lost in memories of them, and furrowed his brows in confusion: “Who?”

“Emma, the sheriff”.

“Ah, yes, I suppose she is”, he agreed. Quite an understatement. He had waited for three centuries for the child of true love, hell, he has practically created her, so of course he would agree when Sarah said Emma Swan was one of a kind, a very special one indeed.

“She is a very beautiful woman, too”. Sarah mused after a moment.

He knew this was more a question than a statement, and he felt a slight thread of worry creep into his thoughts. What did Sarah wanted to know, if he liked Emma that way? As if the princess could ever hold any appeal to him. As if the woman he loved was not standing in front of him, staring at him, talking to him, and ignoring the very fact that once, for the briefest moment, they were in love… and that he ruined everything, letting love slip away and he lost her forever.

“If you like the stubborn types”. He told her, shrugging.

But Sarah just smiled and said something softly under her breath, something Gold wasn’t able to catch but sounded an awful lot like a dismissal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Half of this story is already written, but I need to work a little more on the details. So, feel free to suggest, comment and critique. 
> 
> A special thank you to Storybrookelacey who is a lovely and helpful Beta.  
> and to Suallenparker, who is constantly encouraging me, and whose suggestions helped me a lot.


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